A Kinder Shade of Pale Ale

A new wave of American pale ales is made for summertime guzzling. Milder in character and lower in alcohol than the brash, potent IPAs we've grown accustomed to, these are 'session beers,' suited to sipping in quantity

IN APRIL, WHEN Portland, Maine's Shipyard Brewing released its American Pale Ale, it did so on hostile territory. American brewers love big, bold flavors; their darlings have always been IPAs packed with bitter hops. But Shipyard premiered its beer in Britain, land of mild, mellow, easy-drinking beers.

IPA, or India pale ale, itself originated in Britain, in the 19th century, as a stronger-than-average brew, heavily hopped to preserve it over the miles it traveled to quench the British Indian Army. In the 1990s, during American craft brewing's first boom, this style became a showcase for the tongue-numbing burn of potent New World hops—a beacon of brash American might.

British pub-goers, meanwhile, have remained loyal to tasty, if timid, low-alcohol milds and brown ales. Even their so-called bitter ales are far from the typical American IPA's bite. These relatively restrained British brews are "session" beers, suited to 20-ounce imperial pint glasses ordered by the round. "In England, you go to lunch, have two beers and go back to work," said Shipyard's owner, Fred Forsley. "That's because you're drinking a 3% beer." Try that here, where an IPA can have an alcohol-by-volume (ABV) percentage in the double digits.

The latest American pale ales remain patriotically hop-forward but have taken a revolutionary dulcet turn. How? New hops, new methods. What brewers call the "C" hops—high-octane West-Coast strains like Cascade, Centennial and Columbus, packed with bitter, citrusy acids—are giving way to new varieties like apricot-y Galaxy, used in Lagunitas's 4.65% ABV DayTime; or green-tea-and-mango EXP 01210, in Drake's 3.8% Alpha Session. Some breweries use old hops in new ways. Odell's "hop back" process filters beer, still warm from the boil kettle, through a bed of hops where the brew acquires more aromatic oils than bitter acids.

Shipyard brewer Alan Pugsley learned his craft at Ringwood Brewery in Hampshire, England. His American Pale is a collaboration with Ringwood's owner, U.K. brewing and pub retailing business Marston's—hence its release across the pond. The piney, citrusy hops strains that U.S. microbrewers adore are here, but delivered with more subtlety, in a beer that weighs in at a demure 4.5% ABV. According to Shipyard's Mr. Forsley, American drinkers "still want full-flavored beers, but want to be able to drink more than two."

So this Fourth of July, raise a pint, or three, to our British brewing heritage. The latest wave of American pales can be enjoyed in quantity without doing in your palate—or your equilibrium.

Founders All Day IPA, 4.7% ABV

From Grand Rapids, Mich., a liquid backyard barbecue—wisps of grass and hay, a hint of mint. A beer crisp as a corn chip, fluffy as a burger bun.

Shipyard American Pale Ale, 4.5% ABV

Shipyard takes classic "C" hops—Washington-grown Cascades, Challengers and Chinooks—but treats them with a subtle Anglo hand. This beer has a nose of clover honey and a Champagne-dry finish.

Flying Dog Easy IPA, 4.7% ABV

From inland Maryland, an exotic South Seas tour—this one puts the I in IPA—with spicy flavors of galangal, ginger, Thai basil and lemongrass.

Sierra Nevada Nooner, 4.8% ABV

A barefoot sprint across the lawn, and a faceplant into a honeysuckle bush: The flowers bloom nectar-sweet, with a refreshing prickle of lemon peel and candied ginger.

Lagunitas DayTime, 4.65% ABV

These NorCal hopheads call their session pale a "fractional IPA," but there's nothing half-baked about the sticky sweet flavors of apricot, pear and white nectarine from a balance of traditionally piney Cali-grade hops and new-wave strains like Australia and New Zealand's Galaxy and Nelson.

Odell Loose Leaf, 4.5% ABV

A brisk, snappy mountain breeze from Fort Collins, Colo. With a mellow, fruity sweetness, it's an Arnold Palmer with a swirl of agave nectar and extra lemon.

Corrections & Amplifications The fifth beer pictured is Lagunitas DayTime Ale. In an earlier version of this article, the caption incorrectly identified it as Firestone Walker Easy Jack.

"A barefoot sprint across the lawn, and a faceplant into a honeysuckle bush: The flowers bloom nectar-sweet, with a refreshing prickle of lemon peel and candied ginger." I also get a hint of peach margarita and Mediterranean quinoa salad. Give me a break.

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